


Holmes brother (Stay away)

by 8fred9



Category: Inception (2010), Sherlock (TV), Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Arthur is a psycho, Beating, Bond going crazy, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, M/M, Mycroft his crazy scary, Now beta, broken leg, dont touch the little brother, someone will pay dearly, the holmes family his scary
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-20
Updated: 2013-01-08
Packaged: 2017-11-19 03:39:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/568672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/8fred9/pseuds/8fred9
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Q gets kidnap and his not save by Bond. His brothers take care of him and maybe, just maybe make him disappear while he recover, which might be the reason why half of London is burning with Bond rage.....just maybe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Now beta so I'm reposting chapter one and will soon be posting the complet chapter two, now that I am kind of happy with it might need to tweak it a bit more...Arthur is crazy, just be warn.

Everything was dark, there was no light and his eyes had not adjusted yet. He knew he was lying on something soft, so not the floor. There was a dull pain slowly coursing through his left leg and he couldn’t feel the right side of his chest. Putting that aside, he tried to remember how he had found his way into the situation.

He had been working late as usual, his face glued to his computer, his mind never wandering over useless details like his minions. That he remembered. Then he had left; going back to his loft, taking the tube, walking along the quiet street, arriving at his door and then...

Then he remembered his security system had failed, someone had been in his house, someone had found a way to invade his privacy. This gave him pause, few people could accomplish this kind of break-in. He had been about to turn around to go back to HQ, back to safety. Then it was blackness, someone had attacked him, he remembered every punch, every crunch of his bones and... His leg had bended with a really weird sound when he had fallen down his stairs. So broken then. This was bad, he tried to move again, but finally realised his hands where hancuffs to the bed frame and his right leg could move, but trying to move the left one proved very painful. His eyes had finally adjusted to reveal a spare room and an iron door. Nothing else, it was him, the bed and that silence. No sound comming from the other side, just deep silence, something that in any one else would incite panic; but really this was just another kind of silence in a long life of them, so he couldn't really bring himself to panic.

And then through all that silence he heard it a faint noise, a simple noise that he of all people could recognize...gunshots.

The door opened with a crash and for a moment he was disappointed to not see an older face, with strawberry blond hair and icy blue eyes. The eyes looking into his where hazel, the hair where black and has unruly as his. This would do. He had time to give a little smile to his brother before the darkness came creepping back. He was safe, everything would be fine for now. Sherlock was here.


	2. Chapter 2

The darkness was slowly slipping away, he was still on a bed, but if anything the room smelled different. It smelled familiar, it smelled like Sherlock. Oh yes,Sherlock. The memories were coming back all at once, and he then realised that his awakening had not yet been noticed. It really should have been, because he could see that he was surrounded on all sides by Sherlock to his left and Arthur on his right. At the end of the bed standing in all his glorious queenish glory was Mycroft. If he tilted his head a little to the side he could see Eames, Arthur’s husband, and a small blond man leaning in the door frame talking to each other and ignoring the Holmes clan in all its glory. In this case its yelling glory.

"You said he would be safe in your little organisation of spies! That nothing would ever happen! How is that nothing Mycroft! There was blood everywhere on the floor! YOU PROMISED!"

"On this one I must concur with Arthur, Mycroft you were in charge of his safety, you said I could go on playing detective in peace, because and I quote: ‘He will never leave the basement and be surrounded by his beloved computers, the worst thing that could happen to him is a paper cut.’"

Arthur just sniffed his indignation at those words and even Q had to roll his eyes. Mycroft could be so condescending sometimes. Mycroft for his part wasn't even looking up from his mobile and that alone was very worrying. Every problem big or small that the governement needed taken care of usually took five seconds of texting, this was major.

"What are you doing brother dearest?"

Everyone jumped at the sound of Q’s voice, Sherlock casting a worried glance over him. He automatically reached for his older brother’s , hand,entwining their fingers. Arthur lost his glaring hate filled expression in a flash, turning all his attention on his precious little brother. Even Mycroft paused for a second, looking over the screen of his mobile, Eames sent him a little smile knowing better then trying to approach an injured Holmes when the three other ones were around. Let’s just say that by experience, Eames had been punched more then once by Sherlock, Mycroft and on one memorable occasion by Q, for trying to reach an injured Arthur when his brothers were taking care of him. He had learned his lesson after seven years in the family and stopped the blond man when I tried to get closer.

"Mycroft? I said what are you doing?"

Mycroft looked guilty for a split second and that made the younger Holmes freeze. The last time the oldest had had that expression on his face, he had delivered Sherlock to Moriarty (an incident that was not to be spoken of ever again).

"Erasing you."

"Erasing me? What do you mean erasing me...? Are you trying to pull another Arthur? Because I have no wish to live his life. No offense Arthur. Please tell me you didn't just do what I think you did!"

Sherlock was on his feet and taking the mobile out of Mycroft’s hands before anyone could move. Turning around, he threw the phone in Arthur’s direction, stopping Mycroft’s attemps to get it back. Arthur’s blank face slowly shifted and if Q hadn't been stuck on the bed he would have tried to flee. Sherlock had moved back to the other side of the bed feeling safer with Q between him and his older brother. Mycroft was backing away slowly towards the door now empty of Eames and the blond. They had fled at the first signs of frowns, either cowards or geniuses.

"He did."

The tone was flat and didn't reveal in how much trouble Mycroft had just put himself into. But the two younger Holmes knew this tone and kept their mouths shut, not moving, just in case the predator would turn on them. Few things in the world terrified Mycroft, but a pisssed off Arthur, even though the man was younger than him was one and dear lord did he look pissed.

When they were younger nobody would have looked twice at Arthur. He was skinny, quiet and never really said anything to anyone. Mycroft was the brilliant eldest who would rule the Holmes Empire. But when Sherlock and Q came into the world something shifted in the second son. He now had two little brothers that loved him without rhyme or reason and who looked up to him. That’s how the family discovered that Arthur was crazy. Anyone who dared touch one of his two baby brothers would suffer great pain. Nobody was safe. Even Mycroft, after accidentally punching Sherlock in the nose, saw his precious book collection burned in the garden and that was, according to Arthur, a friendly warning because they were from the same mother.

And so it was that now Mycroft was for the second time in his life facing the dangerous threat that was Arthur. Before Arthur could move or talk again, Mycroft was pointing at Sherlock with a shaky finger almsost yelling.

"Sherlock told me to do it! It was his idea, not mine!"

The predator went to back to sleep in a flash and Arthur slowly turned toward his baby brothers, locking eyes with Sherlock. He didn't need to ask really, one of his eyebrows just went up and Sherlock started explaining. His eyes moving from Arthur to Q, who was now frowning at him, but had not removed his hand from Sherlock grip.

"It was an inside job."

"Explain properly Sherlock, we can't all follow your train of thought." Arthur said in a sweet honey voice full of love, making Mycroft shudder and Q grin. Sherlock only sighed before nodding once and started to explain.

"I went to your flat after I found you. Arthur didn't want to leave you alone and something was nagging at me. John, the little blond you saw earlier, came with me to be sure I wasn't the next target. Also because Arthur is paranoid. Anyway, the kidnappers had disabled all of your security systems. Not just one or two, but all twenty of them. They knew where to look for them and they made quick work of it. Plus I asked your neighbours and your kidnappers were there for less than an hours, they knew when you where coming home and also a lot of details about that made them think they were your friends visiting. I know what your work his and nobody should have known all this except someone with your personal files. Someone working with you, who knew exactly at which time you go home and could give all your personnal info to them. Someone really wanted to hurt you and this had been planned over a long period of time, weeks, maybe months."

Q was silent for a while just staring at Sherlock, speechless. This was bad, he was in charge of the Q-branch and that alone could be a good enough reason to kidnap him. When he pointed that out to Sherlock, his brother looked grim.

"No this was very personal. They wanted to destroy you mentally and physically. This was against you, not your work."

"How do you know?"

There was a moment of silence, before Sherlock uttered the words that Q was hoping he would never hear again.

"I gave them to Arthur."

None of the Holmes could say they were against killing or torture. Their family business, was one part legal (Mycroft’s legacy) and one part illegal (Arthur’s legacy). But where Mycroft, Sherlock and even Q, had no problem putting a bullet in a guilty man’s head,Arthur enjoyed the chase, the torture and the slow death. If Sherlock had given the kidnappers to Arthur, that meant that they had talked. Revealing everything they could to make it stop, but it never really stopped until their last breath. Arthur was crazy.

"Arthur?"

"They talked, I had them for two days, they talked a lot. But they didn't know who hired them. They made every transaction by cash and were given theire orders in letters: nothing electronic, no emails, no transfer from a computer. The person who hired them knew you well."

Sherlock was nodding his approval, even if he looked a little guilty at the mention of those two days.

"That’s why I asked Mycroft to erase you from existence. To everyone at MI6 you are dead. Mycroft sent an email as H and M erased your files and has already sent all your things to the Holmes mansion. Now that the culprit thinks you dead, I assume he or she will relax and let his guard down."

"Making it easier for you to find out who the culprit is and then letting me come back to my life and to work, right?"

It wasn't really a question, but being surrounded by over protective brothers, there was always a risk that they would try to lock him in a room just to be sure he stayed safe. The three older Holmes’ exchanged a look, before Sherlock answered.

"Right, but I am asking for a month of patience from you. This is MI6, I will need to find a way in and to access some files. I will take some time and you need to recover before we can let you go back to work. Your leg is not too bad, but your right wrist needs some rest and Watson, who is a doctor by the way, said that you needed at least a month of bed rest. Give us that time to find the master behind your kidnapping and we will let you go back to your life. Just trust us."

Q would normally have protested to being stuck in a bed for an entire month. But he could already feel the exhaustion of his body after only talking. He was worried for James, the man would probably have a hear tattack the moment he learned about any of this. But he was on a mission for the next five weeks. Which meant, that if he played his cards right, he would be back to his normal life and to work before Bond came back. He could then explain everything to his lover face to face, and maybe even finally present him to his family. But if he started to fight this, he just knew that his brothers would never let him go back to MI6 or James. Plus a month of rest could not be the worst thing ever.

"Fine a month."

00Q00Q00Q00Q00Q00Q00Q00Q00Q00Q

The man had jumped in front of a train, he had trailed the damn man for a week to finally see this stupid terrorist jump in front of a train! This man, feared in six countries and known for his lack of mercy, had been depressed over the death of his cat. He was supposed to tail him for two weeks, then make friends with the guy, to finally gain his trust and steal all his secrets. And he jumped in front of a train.

Well everything wasn't so bad, he hadn't like the idea of leaving Q alone for so long after they had just been talking about moving in together. Thinking about his quartermaster made Bond smile. For once, since they had known each other, Bond was bringing back all the equipement in one piece. Walking down the corridor to Q-branch, he couldn't wait to see his lover’s face, when he gave him back everything still looking like new.

He entered the large room his eyes sweeping over the minions and froze on the spot, when he saw the little blond woman standing on Q’s podium. She turned around feeling his gaze and her eyes went wide with fear.

"Where's Q?"


	3. Chapter 3

M couldn't give him an explanation that would settle his nerves, Eve couldn't look him in the eyes and every member of the Q-Branch had fled the moment he had asked the question that still ran through his mind. Where was Q? It was a simple question and yet the only answer he had been given was a note that M had received two days ago. 

"Stop looking, Q terminated. H."

That wasn't an answer. Did it meant that he was dead, that he was lost or just that they were to let Q be tortured by the men who had taken him? This would just not do. Especially when Bond went to his office. It was a rather large office for someone who didn't even use the place more than once every month or so. But there sitting on his desk was a small box, it was the size of a ring box, black and smooth. The little box was like a beacon, a ray of hope for something he had been looking forward to before his mission. Opening it, he found what he was expecting and much more. Three keys and a Star Wars key chain. A little Lego Darth Vader was the holder to Q's flat keys. James couldn’t even get himself to touch the little figurine. It was just staring back at him, with his little plastic eyes and the more he stared the more he felt judged by the little black mask. Closing the box, Bond pocketed it and walked out, not sure where his feet would lead him.

Into the middle of Q’s now almost empty flat. That was where his stupid feet had led him. All that was left in the flat was the heavy furniture which according to the landlady would be taken to a storage room in two days. He had finally taken the little key chain out of the box, to find another surprise that he wasn't sure his heart could handle. Under the little cape, just out of sight, really if you didn't know it was there you would miss it. There he had found, engraved by laser into Darth Vader’s back, two numbers and a letter. 00Q. 

Bond made his way to the bedroom as if stuck in a haze. The bed, the damn bed was still there glaring at him. Everything just came back crashing into him as he let himself fall into the familiar feeling of the mattress full of their combined smell.

Everything had started because of M’s funeral. The first one and the only real one, the mother of all agents and the only one that he could trust. After the funeral he had found the first bar on his path and had proceeded to drink any and all alcohol that his gold credit card could buy: a lot. It had been a while since he had blacked out from too much alcohol. But the goal had been to never wake up, to just drift from this earth and then he would never have to face a world without meaning. When he awoke, it waswith two wet cheeks and blurry vision. What was surprising was the hot body next to him, well not really surprising. But he was still dressed and he was pretty sure the body next to him was male. It had been a while since he had taken a man to bed willingly. Finally looking down he froze, recognizing the dark curls and lanky body tangled with his. Well this could be interesting if he only could move his hand and...

"James this is called comfort, if you even think about trying to turn this into sex, you will never get it from me again. So think about your next move very carefully. Also it is now two o'clock in the morning and I do intend to sleep for another five hours. So you have three choices, either you leave or you stop moving and just lie there while I go back to sleep or you go back to sleep and when I wake up I will make you pancakes. Choose whichever you want I don't care just don't wake me again."

There was five seconds of silence before Bond heard a light snoring sound coming from his Quartermaster. It wasn't an annoying sound or even disturbing. Bond thought about leaving, about untangling himself from Q but just gave up. He could stay still for five hours. Five minutes later he was back to sleep, realizing that he was safe there. Safe with the man who was the voice in his head. The man who invented the weapons that kept him alive every time he was out in the field. The man who held his life in his hands every day and never let him down. The man he trusted. And so with that thought his tired mind relaxed and went to sleep. The next morning he got pancakes.

Bond thought this would be it but weeks later, he came back to London after a very difficult mission. His mind was on the brink of destruction again and he felt like a waking corpse. And so he found himself in front of Q’s door, just staring at it not sure what to do now that he had found the courage to go there. He was about to turn around and go to a bar to find a woman to help him forget everything for an hour or two, when the door opened on a moody pyjama wearing Quartermaster.

"James I do hope you know that I have two cameras out in this corridor and that I have been watching you trying to make up your mind for the last hour."

Bond was silent for a while just staring at his Quartermaster not sure how to ask for the once given freely comfort. Q’s eyes were looking even more tired than before and Bond looked down not meeting his eyes. He almost laughed when he realized the young man was wearing a Kermit pyjama bottoms. In retrospect this was one of Q’s top four pyjama bottoms: the other three were, Star Wars, Sesame Street and Nightmare Before Christmas. In the next month Bond would see a myriad of weird and comical pyjama bottoms always paired with a plain, too large, white t-shirt. But right at this moment Q opened his mouth to say the words that would change their relationship forever.

"Just go to bed James, I will be there in a minute."

Q had then turned around leaving Bond the task of closing and locking the door. The agent made his way across the flat passing the sofa where Q had gone back to work on his laptop. He didn't even look up has Bond passed him just making a vague hand gesture toward the bedroom.

"Go, go I just have to finish this."

Bond made his way to the bedroom to find a pair of sweatpants on the bed waiting for him. He was about to ask Q about it, but the Quartermaster entered the room in a flash going to the bathroom and mumbling something about Bond not being allowed to sleep naked, so it was either the sweatpants or his own super expensive trousers. The agent put on the pants without any comment and found his way under the blanket. Q was there in an instant, tangling his legs with the older man’s stiff ones and resting his head on Bond’s shoulder. The older man stayed still for a moment before the younger man sighed.

"You are allowed to touch James, just relax and go to sleep. I do have to go to work tomorrow and if you can’t calm down you will end up on the couch."

A little chuckle escaped the agent, surprising him. He couldn't remember the last time he had even felt amused. So finally, Bond slid his hand on Q’s back just letting it lie there and his other one to Q’s neck resting his finger on the younger man’s pulse point. Feeling his Quartermaster’s heart beat under his finger and feeling Q put his other arm on James’ chest, he felt safe for the second time in a long time. 

This went on for a while, always the same routine. He would stand in front of the door and knock three times. Q would open the door and go back to his laptop on the couch. James would make his way to the bed and wait for Q to come to bed before cuddling to him. Bond’s hand would always find its way to the younger man’s neck, to find his pulse and then and only then would the agent go to sleep. 

Until one night James found himself nose to nose with his Quartermaster. The agent was lying on his back, he had been ready to cuddle, but Q seemed to have something else on his mind. Something that he had been warned would mean the end of the comfort.

"Q?"

"I said if you turned this into sex it would be over James. I never said I couldn't. So could you just stop all your thinking and kiss me?"

He wasn't about to argue with that and with that first sweet and passionate kiss, followed by many other hungry ones, he went on to be in the healthiest relationship a double 0 could have with the man who created his tools of destruction. Because with Q he could be James. Because with this young man he could be his paranoid creepy self that Q found cute. Because with his Quartermaster he could let his guard down and ask for comfort. Since Vesper he had sworn he would never let his guard down, but this weird lanky little boy had skipped right over the walls surrounding his heart and made a home for himself.

He came back from memory lane, lying on the same bed where he had felt so safe, to a feeling of emptiness. His world wasn't the same anymore, he had no reason to keep on going. Well maybe one, revenge. Revenge would be good, revenge would keep him going, revengewould be his last mission. He would track down those people and make them suffer. They would suffer as he was suffering, they would beg for their lives and he would take every plea a gift for his love. Every drop of blood would replace the tears he couldn't shed. Then when his revenge was complete he would end his life. 

00Q00Q00Q00Q00Q00Q00Q00Q00Q00Q

Q had fallen asleep with all his brothers still in the bedroom and was now waking up to a body wrapped around him. He had a moment of hope that the heavy body would be the one of his favourite agents, but there were too many limbs in the bed and no hand curled around his neck. Q was kind of relieved that his glasses were still on his nose. His older brother, Sherlock, was wrapped around him like the sleepy octopus he was, while still avoiding all of his injuries. What was a surprise was the small blond man, Watson, that was sitting on a chair at the end of the bed, his feet propped and reading a book. So he turned to the only source of distraction in the room, since he couldn’t move.

"So it’s Watson right?"

The little blond jumped at the sound of his voice, glaring at him and clearly about to whisper his answer. Q stopped him with a little hand wave before he could talk.

"Talk normally and he won't wake up. If you whisper or try to be too subtle, he will wake up in a flash."

Watson was looking at him, his face completely blank of any emotion, before he nodded once.

"Why?"

"Not sure, he was always like that. Every time anyone would try to sneak up on him or try not to wake him he would wake up and wouldn't go back to sleep for hours. As a baby he was our mother’s worst nightmare and he would freak out all the nannies. Because he wouldn't even cry just stare at you as if you were the worst person on earth."

"You just told me more about him in two sentences then I ever got out of him in all the time I've known him."

"Well of course, none of us talk about ourselves, that’s boring. You have to get one of us talking about each other to get the good dirth and information. Also I wouldn't recommend you asking Arthur, he will get suspicious and will probably kill you or make you disappear."

"Well that’s unsettling...What more have you got?"

"Nice try. Why are you here?"

"It’s my house. I'm allowed to be here. Also call me John and finally, you are the guest, so answer the question and give the dirt."

"Nope. Why are you in this room right now, watching my brother sleep?"

John wouldn't look him in the eyes. His gaze went to Sherlock going softer for a minute, before he finally seemed to gather his courage and face the little judgy brother. If any of the other Holmes brothers had been in the room, John knew he just would have fled the room. But since he was faced with what looked like a younger Sherlock clone, he figured he could be as honest with the little one as he was with the tall one. 

"I don't like to have him out of my sight for too long. I know I sound crazy and I know he's still in the flat and quite safe right now. But I just can't. Since the...thing with Moriarty. I lost him for six months. That was half a year of hell. I couldn't sleep, I felt like I was being watched all the time and I couldn't deal with life in general. Everything seemed like it was colourless, food tasted like paste and I hated everyone, even Lestrade and lord know he tried to help."

"How did you go from that to...well this look of absolute love? I'm sorry but you look at Sherlock like he is the only thing that matters to you. It’s sweet really, but try to not do it too much in front of us, it just triggers all kinds of things in our brain and we'll want to kill you. No offense, it’s just if he loved you as much has you do, which I'm pretty sure he does by the way, it makes us fear the future when you die and leave him alone."

"Again, unsettling. And why would I die before him?"

"I'm betting Arthur, but Mycroft his nearer and has the resources to make you disappear fast. Or me if you get annoying."

 

The doctor just stared at him for a moment. Then his eyes just went to Sherlock again and he seemed to forget everything Q had just said about the threat and killer brothers, choosing to pick up the conversation to the topic of abandonment.

"The first thing I did when he came back was punch him in the face. Then I passed out and finally I basically pouted and ignored him for a while, still making sure that he was always in my line of sight. Then he explained to me all he had been doing all that time and why he had..." John stopped letting the rest of his sentence drift into silence.

"Continue."

"Hum. Well after some time of quiet stalking. I kind of realized I couldn't go through that again or even spend more than two hours away from him, so I asked for a relationship. He said yes quite quickly."

Watson had the biggest smile on his face, clearly remembering something about his proposal. Q couldn't help it, he started giggling, that was the only way he could see is brother entering a relationship and if the good doctor understood that, then he was the perfect man for this relationship. They stared at each other for a while enjoying the silence and the light snoring emerging from under the blanket, which only made them giggle laugh harder. 

"By the way John, where are my two other idiot brothers?"

"Oh I only got a few pieces of their conversation. But from what I got Sherlock gave them two lists, one with names and the second one with five questions to ask the people on the first list. Then there was a thing about Eames going to MI6 with Mycroft to ask the questions, then something about a forger and Arthur talked about something call a pasiv? Then Sherlock said he was going to go check on you and I found him under the blanket wrapped around you sleeping soundly."

"Oh Watson we need to have a talk about dream-sharing and the illegal part of the family." Q said with a soft smile as his fingers started playing with his older brother curls. If he looked slightly like a villain petting his evil pet...well the Holmes family did have a flair for the dramatic.


	4. Fate

If he could or even felt like it Bond would have patted himself on the back for a job well done. Well half done really. Remembering his first time in Q's flat had brought back the memories of the cameras his quartermaster kept hidden in his hallway. As he thought the camera had been disabled but not before they had caught one clear shot of one of the kidnapper. It wasn’t much, but with a little threat and bribery here and there you could get anything out of anyone in MI6. Now he just had to wait, for an answer, for anything really. He had four different people working on it, of course none of them knew they were not the only one working on his little project, all they knew was the price of failure.

His left hand was in his pocket slowly cradling the keychain. His index finger going over the engraving, his mind was going back to the flat. To happy moments, after everything, the agent had thought that being in a relationship would be hard. But everything seemed so easy, slipping into domesticity had been effortless. Every day off was like a little gift. He still remembered the very first one.

James had just woken up. The day before had been full of explosions, gunshots and a monologuing villain. But today was to be a quiet day. The very first day off he had ever had while in a steady relationship. It still didn't sound right to is ears and still didn't feel completely true, but every time he even thought of his life without Q, there seemed to be blankness forming in his mind. A void that should not be there, a void he had tried to fill with countless woman and that void was now filled with curly black hair and a lanky body.

"James?"

Said curly hair had just popped up into his line of sight. Q was fully dressed in tight jeans, that made the agent feel the need to pull the young man into bed and a White V-neck t-shirt over which the younger man had thrown a blue and black checked cardigan. All that combined with walking black shoes and his black rimmed glasses made him look more relaxed and comfortable than anything Bond had ever seen him wear before. Which brought up a very important question since the older man was still in bed naked and felling quite rested from the activities of the night before.

"Why are you dressed and not in bed with me?"

"Because you and I are free today and this is a relationship James. You are going to have to work on it, if you want to stay in it. Now get up! Your clothes are on the bed and you have twenty minutes to shower and get dressed before our reservation."

Q was out of the room in a flash, leaving a very confused agent in his wake. But then again he had learned quite early in their relationship that Q was very fond of planning and he would often find himself on a surprise date. He had tried once toturned the event on Q not being very pleased with all this planning. Only to find how Q’s rage could turn every simple task into a nightmare. None of the doors at HQ would open for him, all his pass codes would set off alarms and his computer wouldn't do anything but play the video of Gangnam Style. It had lasted for a week or personal hell, before he found the courage to grovel and ask for forgiveness. So without losing a minute of his precious twenty, he jumped out of bed showering and shaving in a flash. He was out of the bathroom in five minutes and looking suspiciously at the clothes Q had left on the bed. He was used to wearing suits, even on his day off. So the dark blue jeans, button down white shirt and black leather jacket were alien to him. He didn't even know where Q had gotten them or if they were the right size.

They were weirdly comfortable. Not finding any shoes, he made his way out to find Q already in his blue scarf and black coat holding out a pair of black boots. Smiling he took the boots out of the younger man’s hands and put them on in a flash. He didn't have to say a thing. Q only put a blue scarf around his lover’s neck zipping his leather jacket with a smile.

"I'm gonna enjoy taking you out of this later."

James could only response to this by leaning over and pressing his lips to the adorable mouth in front of him. He felt the younger man’s hands slidding around his neck, carding his finger in the short strawberry blond hair, before deepening the kiss. Bond asked for entry softly pressing his tongue to the youthful mouth and was granted access with a soft sight. Q's mouth tasted like toothpaste and Earl Grey. He always thought that the Quartermaster’s kisses would be shy and soft, but they were always passionate and filled with love. Eventually Q regretfully leaned back, not moving his hands and resting his head on James forehead.

"Time’s up lover boy, come on let’s go."

They were out of the door in the next moment, Q wrapping his arms around James’ right one and smiling up at him. James remembered every second of their breakfast talking about themselves and their background in MI6. Q not even raising an eyebrow every time James would taste his food before the young man could even touch it. They had then walked around London sightseeing, something neither of them had ever done. The night had ended in a small cafe the two of them snuggled up in a banket, Q nursing a cup of Earl Grey, while Bond enjoyed a cappuccino.

"Did you enjoy your day dear?"

"Yes I did. You really do make everything better luv."

"Oh sweety, cut the crappy line, you already got me and I am going back to the house with you. I'm a sure thing, lucky you."

"Lucky me indeed, I love you."

Q seemed startled by the revelation, but was all smiles when he looked up into his lover’s icy blue eyes. The next moments, hours were filled with slow kisses, going from lazy to passionate, ignoring the looks they got from the other customers.

"I love you James. You stupid man"

"You can never say something nice without insulting me, can you?"

"Where's the fun in that James? I like to keep you one your toes."

An irritating sound brought the agent back to reality. His phone was ringing. Looking at it in a daze, he finally picked it up to hear the first clear answer he had heard in days.

"I found your man!"

He was out and running of the office in seconds, bumping in a burly suit-wearing gorilla. The both of them ended up on the floor being looked on by two black haired men, one with an umbrella looking very unimpressed and the other one wearing golden rimmed glasses and holding an Ipad. He looked very bored, not even paying attention to the agent on the floor, only having eyes for the other man. Gorilla was a good description for the man facing him on the floor. He was all muscle, looked very uncomfortable in his suit and seemed very hairy from what he could see of his arms. All three men had their hair slicked back, looking very business-like.

"Eames what did I say before we came here?"

"That I had to behave myself, darling. But this man basically jumped me, you can’t put the blame on me for this one."

"Hummm...Give me a minute and I'll find a way. Just help him out and let’s go, this is so boring."

The man with the umbrella sighed rolling his eyes before getting back on track and starting up the corridor again, clearly expecting the two others to follow him. The glasses-wearing one glared at the umbrella one, making a little hand gesture that was clearly meant to be offensive. The third one, Eames, was already back on his feet, heaving the agent back to his.

"Let’s go then, the Queen is on a mission and will not wait for us poor minions."

The Ipad man started down the corridor not waiting for the third one. Eames turned to the agent smiling and patted him on the shoulder, before running after his darling, laughing. MI6 really was getting weirder everyday. Bond was tempted to follow and discover who those people were, but remembering the phone call, he put that in the back of his mind and started running in the opposite direction.

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"Eames what did you do?"

"Humm?"

"Don't hum me Eames, you look like the cat who got the cream. You only have that face when you get something over me in bed or when you pickpocket...Oh. Show it."

They were both standing outside M's office, his secretary had gone to get them coffee. Arthur hated to be so close to all those law abiding agents and people. If it wasn't for Sherlock and Q he would never have set foot in the damn place. But Sherlock had given them a list of five questions for Mycroft to ask to a list of people also given by Sherlock. Arthur’s job was to write down all the questions on his Ipad, since he was the fastest typer. Eames’ job was to watch, every little twitch and every little shrug so he could forge all those people later on. The goal being to go into Arthur’shead when everything was ready, so that Eames could forge all the people they would question, answering the questions with the notes Arthur had taken and their mannerisms Eames had memorized. All this just so Sherlock could analyze everything calmly and safely from his flat. After what had happened to Q, Arthur was not letting Sherlock near any of these people. Mycroft on the other hand had 24/7 access to the facility, beingthe elusive H. Well everybody thought Mycroft was H’s second in command and nobody knew what the man look like. So far they had made it into the building quite easily, except for Eames’ little accident of course.

Eames, who was now holding out a Lego Star Wars key chain, with three keys on it with a damn big smile.

"Tell me you had a good reason to take this please."

"I'm bored."

"We haven't been here for an hour yet and we haven't even started the interviews. How are you already bored?"

"How are you?"

"I'm always bored around Mycroft this can't hardly be a surprise to you dear."

"Well now you can share with me the secret pleasure of picturing that man going crazy looking everywhere for his keys, while we have to stand like good little minions around Mycroft."

"I knew there was a reason I married you. Fine hide those, the woman is coming back."

"Yes darling and do keep the glasses until we go back home, they make you look delicious."

"Tease...Fine."

The secretary passed right in front of them ignoring them and going into the office, just as Mycroft was coming back. Making a little hand gesture, clearly meant to make them follow, Arthur only just stopped himself from throwing the Ipad at his brother’s head. The interviews could start, the plan was finally in motion.

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A list of buildings owned by the one name Bond could get, that was more than what he had been expecting. Looking through the list he had found the address for an old abandoned building away from any populated areas, the only one that seemed even remotely promising. So with a suitcase full of C4 and enough gun power to kill a small army,getting into one of the cars he had gotten in case he needed to get off the grid, he made his way toward his vengeance.

The building turned out to be an enormous warehouse surrounded by trees and water: the perfect place to hide someone, the perfect place to torture someone. One kick made quick work of the front door, but only silence greeted the agent. The inside was Bart of any clutter, it was a vast open emptiness, lit up by the rows of giant windows on all four walls. The emptiness was only obscured by five walls of concrete forming a medium size block in the middle of it. Slowly making his way to the block, Bond walked around it finally facing its opening in the form of a big iron door.

It had a heavy lock clearly meant to lock only on the outside. It wasn't lock. There was a frozen moment during which every fear Bond had ever had camecrashing into him. He had to remember to breathe, before finally pulling the door open.

The smell was the first thing that hit him. It smelled of blood, death and puke. The light rushed inside not leaving anything in the shadows, everything was clear as day and Bond really wished it wasn't.

He couldn't even start to guess how many bodies were there. Everything was in pieces, there were fingers nailed to the ceiling, limbs and blood were scattered from the floor to the walls. He could see the white of bones on what he guessed used to be a bed. Just there in the middle of all of it on the floor was one dark curl of hair. In the middle of this hell, in the middle of the worst scene he had ever witnessed in his life, sat one dark curl. There was no head, no other sign of limbs he could recognize, but that single curl.

Bond closed the door feeling empty and frozen. In a daze he went back to car, took out his suitcase and went back inside. Walking along the walls, not going near the nightmare in the middle of the room, every fifteenth step or so, he would stop, take out a brick of C4 and stick it to the floor, joining all of them with a long red string of fate. When he had finally made his way around the building, he looked in the middle one last time feeling a single tear escape his cold empty eyes. He went out, taking a seat in his car ready to start the count down and drive into the building, ending a life he couldn't keep on living. He would go in the favorite way every double 0's went, explosion. He reached into his pocket after starting the car, wanting to hold his keychain one last time to only find emptiness.

Everything unfroze. Someone had taken his last reminder of Q. Rage was slowly killing the emptiness and sadness, someone would pay, someone...the man in the corridor, he would suffer, as Bond was suffering.

New goal, new revenge, new plan. Turning the car around and pressing the detonator button. The building burst into flames, but not once did Bond look back. He was James Bond, a man with a mission to kill.

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	5. Jail

 

It had been two weeks now. Two weeks during which Eames had been stalking the seven people Sherlock had pointed out to him after reading the answer from Arthur Ipad. Two weeks during which the different bruise and coloring ornating Q's body had slowly started to fade and he could use his hands again. To everyone pleasure, since the youngest Holmes had been quite vocale about being fed by his older brothers or Watson. Two weeks of which three days had been spent pouting on Arthur's parts, the reason had been the destruction of his masterpiece and knowing what Arthur considered a masterpiece nobody in the flat even tried to ask any question about it, spouting the two extra days of pouting. Two weeks during which a series of weird explosions started all over London, without anything linking them but the C4 use to make the buildings turn to ash.

John was slowly going crazy. From the coming and going of the hoard of Holmes mens that where very slowly ruining his life. He had been appointed the official Q babysitter and that alone was fine. But Lestrade had been calling near constantly, first about the explosions, which held no interest to Sherlock, thank God. But then a series of weird murders had started across London and that was too much for the consulting detective to ignore. That combined with Arthur pouting, treatening violence and Eames weird copying of people ticks, was driving the poor doctor mad. He had promised he wouldn't leave the youngest Holmes side during his recovery, but every time Sherlock left, Watson was torn between his need to keep his promise and his need to watch over his lover.

"John?"

He didn't even know where Sherlock was at the moment, of course he texted him every so often, but still it was so hard. Q was a wonderful little man and was giving up a lot of dirt on his brother, but really...

"John!"

"Yes Q, I'm sorry, I was..."

"Lost in your head, thinking of the worst case scenario my sweet big brother could get himself into?"

"...Yes that, am I that obvious? Nevermind you're a Holmes of course I'm that obvious. I don't lie about it, but I know Lestrade won't let him go anywhere without him or me. He's suppose to call me if anything happens."

"So you're a control freak who loves my brother enough to let him go, but doesn't trust him enough to do anything by himself?"

"...Would you?"

Q was already snickering from the bed shaking his head, looking at John with something close to pity in his eyes.

"No its Sherlock were talking about, he cannot be trusted to take care of himself. He would rather take a bullet than let someone innocent die for him. When we were small Arthur and me were on Sherlock duty, then it was Mycroft, who didn't really do a good job and now its you. Congratulations!"

"Sherlock duty?"

"Sherlock duty entails making him eat, sleep and making him happy. Mycroft failed miserably on the last one. But then you popped in and Mycroft got scared for him and tried to get rid of you."

"And failed again."

"Yes, and failed again. But your Sherlock duty is motivated by true love, so its not really a duty is it?"

"No its not a duty."

He was about to say something else when he heard Arthur yelling from the living room and Sherlock making shushing noises. Sharing a look with the invalid in the bed, he reached into his pocket to find it empty. Q must have realised something was off because helooked  up sharply toward the door, before burrying himself under the covers. John was out the door before the next set of shouting could reach Q.

"What is that? Who did this? NO! I won't shut up! Tell me, tell me now! Why the hell is there blood on your face? Sherlock come back here!?"

John was just about to enter the living room, when Sherlock bumped into him, trying to get away from his obsesive brother. Arthur was still shouting questions at his brother, while Eames watched the whole scene from the couch looking like he was only missing some pop corn. Watson hands automatically went to Sherlock hips making the man spin around before sitting him on the nearest chair.

"What. Is. This?"

Right there on Sherlock's perfect cheekbone was a long gash still leaking a little blood. It wasn't too deep or even that bad, but it was enough to make John see red. Still his voice was very calm and steady when he asked, his hand slowly caressing his lover's face, avoiding the gash and blood.

"Sherlock, what happened?"

"Just...John its only a little scratch, nothing bad really."

"Sherlock."

"I left Lestrade for a moment, because I knew where the culprit was and he didn't have time to listened to me. He was too caught up with his little team of forensic people to listen and I just went ahead to confirm my hypothesis."

"And?"

"I didn't think he would give much of a fight, he was smaller than you, really skinny and quite sick. He caught me by surprise with a knife and slashed me acrosse the face. He would probably have finished the job, but someone shot him in the back. I actually thought you had followed me for a moment. But Arthur said you stayed in the flat all day."

"Who shot him?"

"No idea, well...From what I saw, someone just a little bit taller then you, military training. Very well trained because he probably took the shot from the roof across the street. He shot to wound so he knew exactly where to aim to get him down without killing him."

"Without killing him?"

The glacial voice of Arthur, silent up until now, cut right throught the bubble Watson had created around him and his wounded lover.

"Yes he was taken to the hospital, where they patched him up and then to the Yard with Lestrade."

Arthur turned around leaving his brother in the care of the doctor. Eames looked at his husband looking way too calm, for his own good.

"Eames?"

"Yes darling?"

"Go get drunk you're going to prison."

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James had had a two weeks of personal hell. He couldn't sleep more than four or five hours every two days. His only moments of joy in the desert of information he couldn't find on the gorilla man, was the vendetta. Every building on the list the men at MI6 had given him was now a ashes, a little souvenir for the people who had hurt his love. There was no rhyme or reason to his selection of the buildings. Everytime the lack of sleep would make his mind wander, he would take the list out, close his eyes and select one. He would then make his way there and get his suitcase, and go to work.

He was on his way to one of them when he came across a crime scene. Nothing very interesting or surprising in this part of London. He only spared a glance, when he caught a flash of black curls and a sharp voice complaining.

"Really Anderson are you trying to be even more stupid than usual? I swear it would explain so much about you. No this means nothing except that the victim loved peanuts. There is no secret meaning behind a bag of peanuts. Lestrade!"

"Sherlock I swear to God... Just let Anderson do his work and come here."

The agent was frozen in place, looking at the tall older version of Q standing across the street from him. Everything about him, from the black curls, to the lanky body and his voice full of authority. It was actually very frightening to see. Before he could stop himself Bond was across the street and stalking the taller men with his eyes. His every movement bringing a little peace to his heart and mind. Smilling everytime the man would proclaim facts about trivials things and point out everything that seemed obvious to him and frowning everytime he was meet with confused looks. Smiling until he saw the man slip from the Detective Inspector's surveillance, into an small street. On an impulse Bond followed him, not liking that the tall man was now without protection.

The street was too small and the man too intelligent for Bond to try and follow him on ground level. Luckily for him all the houses were connected on the roof level, so after some climbing the agent could easily follow the other men. The black curls were jumping in time with his brisk march down the street never stopping to see where he was going. He seemed to know exactly where he was headed. When finally he stopped it was to stop a man walking a little down the street. He saw the man put his hand on the smaller skinnier man turning him around.

"Oh yes, that's you, would you kindly follow me back to your crime scene, so I can prove how wrong Anderson his with his six foot tall muscular description? Such an imbecile really."

The smaller man, criminal from what Bond could hear, took a step back removing the hand on his shoulder. Swinging his hands up, the agent just had enough time to pull his gun when he saw the gash of blood on the taller man's cheek, shooting to harm and not to kill. The skinny men dropped to the ground. Double 0 Seven just had enough time to drop to the ground and roll to the other side of the roof before the taller version of Q could see him.

He was away from the scene before he could be spotted by any officer. It was the first time in two weeks he had felt anything but rage or sadness. He had felt the need to protect. He knew why, the men had been a reminder. The simple thought of seeing him get killed had not even been acceptable. For the first night in two weeks Bond slept for eight hours straight.

The next morning Bond received an email from one of Q's minions, that was quite interesting.

"007,

This information came to me this morning. Knowing you were interested in a man named Eames. A report was filed this morning from a London Police Station. A man named Eames got drunk and was arrested for causing havoc in a pub. His husband Arthur H. Cobbs, bailed him out at two o'clock this morning, Four hours later a man died in his cell, but there his nothing linking him to your man. The address given was 221b Baker Street.

F"

It seemed his luck was turning.

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	6. Reveal

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It was three days after the knife accident, John was still not really happy about it all. But the news that the man who was responsible was now dead had made him quite happy. Of course he wasn't showing it in big ways, but now Arthur got his tea faster and Eames even got some extra snacks. Something that hadn't escape Sherlock, but he wisely chose to ignore it all. John had just come back from doing some groceries to find Eames sitting on the couch alone and the flat very silent. This was,however, unusual. If Arthur, Sherlock and Q, were in the flat, Watson would usually hear it from outside. He shot a questioning look to the only Holmes husband. The man smile smugly raising his eyebrows.

"It’s the HPP."

"I beg your pardon?"

Standing up from the couch Eames grabbed the smaller man’s arm dragging him and his bags to Q and Sherlock’s room. Passing the table, Watson just had enough time to deposit the bags, before finding himself exposed to something quite fantastic.

There on the bed, single bed, lying in the middle was Arthur sleeping flanked on both sides by one of his younger brother. On his right was Q, his head on Arthur’s shoulder and his good leg wrapped around his older brother’s. Sherlock was on his left, head on his brother’s belly, his legs wrap around both Arthur’s and Q's. Sherlock’s left hand was in Q’s. Both the younger brothers’ hand lying over Arthur’s heart.The three of them were snoring softly. John was brought out of this moment of perfect stillness by the snap of a camera. Turning around he found Eames lowering his phone, smiling tenderly at the scene.

"The HPP, the Holmes Puppy Piles. This happens everytime both of them get hurt. One just gets Arthur really worked up and murderous. But two, two is the magic number that makes him very clingy and protective. I'm surprised he even lasted this long."

Seeing as Eames was talking in a normal voice and remembering Q’s little talk about whispering, John answer with the same tone.

"So I get this is not the first time you’ve witnessed this?"

"Oh no, you want to see the pictures? I got all of them in my phone and on a back-up in a safe in one of my banks in Germany."

"Germany?"

"Arthur erases them every time he finds them, so I have back-up Hidden all around the world. I mean come on, this, this is adorable. Arthur can play bad guy all he wants, but he goes all soft and kitty-like when you talk about his brothers."

"Yeah, he's a big psycho softy." The smaller man was going through the pictures on Eames’ phone when he saw a picture of Sherlock in the middle of his two brothers. He was covered in bandages and both of the Holmes brothers look like they had been crying from the streak of dried tears on their cheeks. "What's this? When was this?"

"Oh! Humm, oops."

"Eames, when was this?"

"The fall. Sherlock didn’t wake up right away and Mycroft was starting to get worried. So he called Arthur and Q. He was in a coma for two days. Arthur and Q just stayed there holding him and talking to him. It was the first time I ever saw Mycroft look worried. He asked for you, when he woke up you were the first person he asked for."

"Send me all these pictures."

"Ok."

They went back to the living room, not talking just enjoying the silence that for once felt too heavy to John. He had begun to get used to it after everything, but now even with Eames in the room, it just felt wrong. It was another hour before Arthur emerged from the room.Glaring at his husband.

"Erase the pictures."

"What pictures, Darling?"

Arthur kept on glaring at him, but still came when Eames stretched out his hand making a grabby gesture. When his husband was in grabbing distance, Arthur found himself in Eames’ lap, still glaring. Sherlock was the second one to come in, his hair all over the place. He made his way to his lover, curling up next to him on the sofa.

"Mister Eames, are you ready?"

"Yep!"

"Arthur?"

"Got the pasiv in John's room and received the chemical from Yusuf yesterday."

"Are you up to it?"

"I'll be the dreamer, Eames will do his thing and you will have your answer."

"I need John to."

"No. He is staying here to watch over Q."

"Q is still sleeping and from what I got he will sleep for the next two hours, and I need John to ask the question in lieu of Mycroft."

"I can do it. Sherlock this is childish, you don't..."

"Eames will react differently if you ask the questions, it’s just a natural reaction to him, he can't help it. I need John to ask the questions, because then he won't have to think about not reacting to you and just concentrate on his forging."

"...Eames?"

"Sorry Darling, but on this one he's spot on. You always know it’s me even when it’s my best forgery and it always makes me think of ways to hide or make you see it’s me. It won't be the same if it’s you."

"Fine you win little brother. I dream..."

"Why can I be the dreamer?"

Both Arthur and Eames jumped at that shaking their heads and looking terrified. They talked at the same time.

"No, never again, NO!"

John was looking at the whole scene with fascination. Q had explained to him the principal of dream sharing and he was quite curious about the whole thing. Sherlock knew it and this was probably the real reason he was so intend to bring Watson along. But this was also very interesting.

"Why isn't Sherlock allowed to be the dreamer?"

Arthur was just a little bit faster to answer, burying the comment from Eames, which sounded a lot like the words, ‘freaking nightmare’.

"The one and only time I let Sherlock be the dreamer it was a simple test to see his capacity. Eames and a friend came with us. Let just say that your dream world represents the person dreaming quite well. Sherlock has a chaotic way of thinking and it reflected that, only ten times worst. Not something I wish to experience again."

Sherlock got his pouting face for a flash, if anyone else had seen it they would have let it go or thought they had imagined it. But John only smiled, squeezing Sherlock’s shoulder. Arthur and Eames got back on the sofa, relaxing.

"So again. I dream, Eames forges, John asks the question and you analyze. I'm thinking one hour should be enough. When do you want to do it?"

"Now?"

"Eames?"

"I'm up for it, what about you Darling?"

"I'm good, let’s get to it then."

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Everything was very confusing for the special agent. Hehad found a spot in the apartment facing the flat belonging to one Sherlock Holmes. He had thought that it was a false name to hide the man named Arthur or even the gorilla, Eames. But after some digging he had found some pictures of the consulting detective and recognized him. He had been spying on the apartment for three days now and nothing made any sense. The tall curly hair Q clone was clearly in a relationship with his flatmate. But he couldn't figure out how the other couple fit into it. The one with the slick hair was going from angry, especially towards the burly man, to very sweet, especially towards Sherlock. The small blond man always seemed calm and quite affectionate to his lover, always touching him and kissing him. While the burly man, Eames, just sat around someone talking to the blond, sometime cuddling this slick haired one. Sherlock didn't seemed to really like Eames, never coming to close to the man, never touching him and sometime just glaring at him. He felt like Sherlock was the key to all this, but also the reason he hadn't gone with his first plan.

When he had found the flat he had brought his rifle ready to just shot the man through the window, or even just make the whole building explode. But then, just then Sherlock had come in, going to the window, violin in hand. He had looked so graceful, so calm. Bond was just missing something and he could feel it in his bones. Something wasn't right.

Even now with the two couples on the couch, he was surprised when both of the older men jumped up shaking their heads, looking scared andlooking at Sherlock weirdly. When they finally settled down, slick haired Arthur went out of the living room coming back with something the agent recognized. He hadn't been one of the lucky ones chosen for the dream sharing branch of MI6, but he knew what a pasiv was.He watched as all of them got connected to it, watched as they slowly went under and finally had an excuse to move in.

It was revenge time.

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Sherlock came back to consciousness to a weird scene that made him question whether he was awake. Arthur, Eames, John and himself were all tied down and gagged. In Arthur and Eames’ case with tape and ropes. But he himself and now a very glaring John were only tied down with ropes. Only Sherlock wasn't gagged and that would have been interesting if not for the fifth men in the room. He was sitting in the middle of the room keeping an eye on everyone tied down, but with his back to Q's room. He was just a little taller than John, military training, strawberry blond hair and icy blue eyes. The eyes revealing a pit without emotion, this was a man who would kill without remorse. But only if he thought you were guilty, that was proven by the fact that they were all still alive. Plus Sherlock had been tied down in a way to not hurt him or even draw blood. But Arthur and Eames had not had this chance, clearly uncomfortable, and from what he could see of his brother’s face, very pissed and murderous. Looking back into the man’s eyes and his body language another piece of the puzzle came crashing into Sherlock’s head.

"I get that you’re the one I should thank for saving my life, yes?"

The man seemed startled for a moment, before smiling and nodding a little. John and Arthur still looked pissed, but now there was curiosity there. Eames just looked bored, if a little bit worried.

"What I don't get is why? I don't know you do I? No. So why save me, plus you must have been following me for a little while before, so why?"

"Just feel like it."

"Liar."

The man only smiled, leaning forward his gun now in his hand. He stood up going over to Eames and taking something out of the other man's pocket. A keychain. A Lego keychain, with a little character that Sherlock couldn't recognize. But from John’s look, was apparently something he should know. They were sogonna have the solar system discussion again. The man came back to his seat in front of Sherlock. Dangling the keychain between his fingers.

"This is what I was looking for actually."

"Why?"

"Sentimental value."

"And now what?"

"Now I'm thinking I shot these two and then make a decision about you two."

"I don't like this plan, just thought I put it out there."

"Duly noted Sherlock."

Standing up again the man made his way to Arthur lifting his gun. Sherlock was starting to doubt his first impression not liking the joy the man seemed to get at the idea of putting a bullet through his brother’s brain. He had been hoping he could reason with him, but even so he didn't seem to want to kill him or John, he was really intent on the two other men.

"I don't think you should do this, it’s just..."

"SHERLOCK! Where the hell did you put my glasses?! You know I hate it when you do this. Where the hell...?OH REALLY! My tea cup, this is just childish. ARTHUR! JOHN! Oh come on, you better not all be down there."

There was a thumping noise, indicating Q was now making his way towards them lumbering his cast down the kitchen, before he finally appeared in the doorframe, wiping his glasses on his t-shit.

"I mean really how hard is it to just put them on the nightstand? No you had to put them in my...What is going on here? James? What the hell?"

The gunman seemed frozen in place, his gun still pointed at Arthur's head. Q's face was going from surprised, to confused, to slowly very angry.

"James, explain to me why you just tied down my brothers and their boyfriends and why you are pointing a gun to one of my older brother? I mean seriously, this is just....hummff."

Practically jumping over Sherlock, the strawberry blond had crashed into his little brother, plastering his lips to the babbling Holmes. They were now moving toward full on tongues and not that the scene wasn't interesting, but Sherlock didn't like being tied down.

"HUM! HUM! Would it be possible at all for you to detached yourself from my little brother long enough to untied us or at the very least me?"

In one swift move the older man turned around, producing a knife out of thin air and cutting the rope binding Sherlock leaving the knife in Sherlock’s hands to free the others. By the time everyone was free and Arthur had found a set of knife of his own, the two interesting people had left the room.

"Q!?"

"Bedroom!"

The pack of angry people and Sherlock, made their way to the bedroom finding another weird scene for the second time that day. He just had to verify.

"Arthur, Eames, totems please."

Already way ahead of him, Arthur was playing with his dice and Eames with his casino chip. The gunman was sitting on the bed his back to the wall and Q in front of him, his face was buried in their little brother’sneck and his arms were wrapped around Q's waist. Arthur only nodded, leaning against the wall. Eames took the space next to him. Sherlock, quite sure that he was even safer now that the man knew he was Q’s brother, sat on the bed, John taking the spot next to him.

"Q?"

"This is James Bond or agent 007 if you so wish. He is what you could call my lover."

"Like John and Eames?"

"Yes Sherlock like John and Eames. I thought he was on a mission for the month and that I would have time to let you work everything out before he would come back. But apparently I was wrong and Arthur would you stop playing with that knife please?"

"I will when the man explains himself."

"What do you want to know?"

The man, James, had lifted his head staring at the knife wielding Holmes straight in the eyes. Arthur would rather shot himself then admit it, but Sherlock could see a touch of respect in his brother’s eyes.

"What's my little brother to you?"

The smile that came across the agent face was both adoring and quite creepy.

"When I kill, I kill with the weapon the man I love built, his hands are the creator of my destruction. He is my other half, the extension of my arm. He holds my heart and I will pull the trigger for him."

The knife disappeared from Arthur’s hands just like the gun had disappeared from Bond’s hands. He had gained Arthur’s approval, he just didn't know it and also didn't know that it was an approval that had to be renewed every month or so. But he would learn, soon enough. Now for Sherlock’s approval, that would depend on his reaction to his next question.

"Did you know that Q’s attack came from the inside?"

Something cold passed over the man’s face, making his eyes even more icy and Sherlock was thankful that his little brother couldn't see his lover’sface in that instant.

"Who?"

"Eve Moneypenny."

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	7. Finale

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There was a long moment of silence during which Bond was very still and Sherlock could see the men calculating different ways to murder the woman. Q on the other hand, was very quiet and his face was going from shock to anger in quick session. Finally settling on anger, the younger Holmes leaned back in the agent’s arms and stared at this big brother.

"Explain."

"I actually just figured it out watching you two. But once I learned that this is the man you've been seeing for the last year or so. Well the pieces just fell together."

"Short explanation Sherlock, please."

"Well during the interrogation she was displaying sign of sadness, but then the more personal the question, the more angry she got and she knew some very personal things about you and gave many details about your personal life. Then she started to mention Mister Bond, here present, and that’s when the crazy came out. It was subtle, but there was many sign of obsession in her   
mannerisms and eyes. I have to congratulate Eames, for the perfect forgery. She has an obsession with your agent and really wanted you out of the way. I am going to assume she used to be a field agent and that she also used to be his lover. She wanted to have him for herself and was planning a long courtship, that was cut short by your own relationship."

Q just nodded, accepting everything, Arthur was already on his cell probably texting Mycroft for a quick abduction, John was looking adoringly at his lover and Eames was still bathing in the glory of Sherlock’s praise. Q could have stopped Arthur and let James handle Eve, but he didn't want to put his lover into the position of killing someone he had once cared about. So the younger Holmes only nodded once to his older psychopath of a brother,giving him the go ahead. Bond was just staring at Sherlock.

"How?"

"Oh I'm a detective, who is also a high functioning sociopath and my speciality is the Science of Deduction. Also this woman is a two-way mirror, her eyes and hands gave away everything she was feelings. That’s how."

James was now looking at Sherlock like John had the first time they meet. Q just chuckled used to this kind of reaction on people who had never heard Sherlock speak. John on the other hand was now glaring at the agent, his arm around his boyfriend. To see the small doctor so possessive made Q smile, reaching over to pat his leg.

"It’s okay John, James is a seducer by nature. But he knows that if he does anything he will disappear without a trace. Just let him have his moment, Sherlock doesn't even know what subtle flirting his."

"Subtle flirting?"

"John will explained it to you later Sherlock, James stop staring at my brother and close your mouth. Arthur, I really don't want to know what you just texted to Mycroft, but I'm hungry so go make something in the kitchen, John if you would please go and help him, my brother often gets distracted and pours salt on everything. Thank you."

There was no question or request in the statement, and John’s army training picked up the order, lifting him out of his seat and following a well-trained Arthur. Eames followed out of habit and because he really like watching his husband’s behind. Leaving Sherlock, Bond and Q alone in the room. 

"Go ahead Sherlock."

With John out of the room, Sherlock went back to his default setting. His face went blank and his eyes hard. His face that was so attractive in movement, became very disturbingly still; even James who faced a different villain every week leaned back, not comfortable with the intense stare studying him and peeling everything that made the agent tick. Q wiggled out of his lover’s arms placing himself next to his brother and assuming the same blank face. It was quite scary to see the two brothers looking so much alike and so scary in all their glaring glory. 

"He's an orphan, has a mother complex that translates into his relationship with women, sleeping with them but never settling, because he's sure they will disappear if he gets attached. Which also means he stays up at least every night for at least an hour, fearing you will not be there when he wakes up. He has an obsession with firearms and explosives. He has a love of killing, but only if he believes the person guilty. He would never touch a child and secretly dreams of someday becoming a father. He is terrified of having a daughter, because of his said relationship with women. He has lots and lots of trust issues, but does trust you, because he has to trust the person who builds the tools for his survival, but also because he has learned to love you. He is very possessive of you, but would never show it publicly, but he would make any person who made him jealous pay dearly. He currently has two guns, five knifes and...did you made him a laser watch? Impressive."

The more Sherlock talked, the more Bond’s face started to close off only leaving the stare he usually gave to people he was about to kill. Q would have been more worried if not for the fact that it was his lover’s default face every time something happened he couldn't understand. It was really hard for the younger Holmes to keep his face straight in the face of his lover’s misery. Sherlock was still staring not even blinking and Q was only waiting for those two little words that he needed from his brother to know if his relationship was worth fighting for. Because fight he would have to, Arthur for his constant approval and Mycroft because of the age difference and his lover’s job. But if Sherlock gave his approval, it would be forever and he would always be on his side in any arguments to come. James seemed to know this because he was still not talking or moving under Q’s brother’s scrutiny. After what seemed like hours but was probably minutes, Sherlock nodded once and stood up going to the kitchen and closing the door. 

Q finally let his smile slip onto his face and reached over to his lover, who was still completely in shock. Slowly lying on his back and placing his lover over him, letting his cast leg on the side. James’ face became a lot more relaxed with the young man under him, feeling his heartbeat through his clothes. 

"Q?"

"The room is sound proof and I missed you. Get to work old man."

"Just to be clear, you got turned on by your brother’s approval and you want to do this right now next to the whole Holmes family and lovers, currently in the next room?"

"And your problem is?"

"Nothing, just checking."

James dove in catching his lover lips, his left hand over the younger man’s heart. The kiss started sweet, only a brush of lips, until Q's tongue darted out asking for more. The agent gave in without protest, opening his mouth to taste the sweet Earl grey taste he had missed for the last few weeks. He was occupied devouring his lover’s mouth tasting everything he could and exploring every inch of his quartermaster. The hand that had been over the younger man’s heart slowly went down sliding over his stomach and finally slipping his hand inside his pyjama pants. His other hand had found its way into his dark curls making his lover moan softly. Both men were now completely hard, Bond slowly rubbing his on his lover’s thigh, his hand caressing Q's. 

"Oh god...James...Get on with it!"

The other man only chuckled, drawing away from the younger men lip and turning his attention to the long strech of white that was his quartermaster neck and sensitive spot. The moan turned up in volume when Bond bite down on Q neck. The young men had just enough brain power left to reach down and open the agent pants, slidding his own hands over the other erection. 

"Q...Q, faster...please faster!"

The next sound coming from the young Holmes was somewhere between a mewling sound from another bite and a chuckle at his lover’s plea. But still he complied moving faster and twisting his wrist at the last minute making the older man groan in surprise and pleasure. Not wanting to be left behind Bond reached lower teasing his lover’s entry with his finger. Q's mouth fell open in surprise and Bond used that opening got his hand out, putting two fingers inside the moist opening, He didn't even need to ask, the younger man started sucking on the fingers coating them in with spit. James watched his lover suck for a while, never stopping to caress his dark curls. Finally taking them out and letting the younger man suck them until the last moment and release them with a pop. He replaced his finger with his tongue, putting back his hands inside the quartermaster’s pyjama pants to tease his entrance, first slipping in one finger and swallowing his lover’s moan. He made a couple of pulls and twists before adding a second one, trying to find the bundle of nerves that would make his lover squirm in pleasure. He knew he’d found it when the hand in his pants suddenly jerked faster, grabbing a little tighter. Every moan coming out of Q's mouth was swallowed by James and Q’s other hand was now on the older man’s neck, keeping him close. Finally letting the younger men breathe a little he was rewarded by his ragged breath and incapability to speak.

"I love you."

Q came so hard his entire body shook leaving him panting for air. James watched, taking in all the glorious sight under him. When finally the younger man’s eyes came back into focus he smiled lazily at his lover. Moving his hand again, Q knew exactly how to make his man follow him in his bliss. With his hand still on the agent’s neck he brought his head to closer to him so he could whisper in his ear. 

"I love you too darling."

Then with one last twist the agent finally came, letting his body fall over the younger man, crushing him to the mattress. They stayed like this for a couple more minutes, just relishing, each other presence. Finally feeling the weight to be too much, he softly pushed on James’ shoulder feeling him roll on his side. James was about to speak, when there was a knock on the door and Eames’ voice came through. 

"Q, when you’re done with the down and dirty, lunch is ready. Also Arthur just went out with Mycroft and said he wasn't coming back for the next two days. Sherlock and John came out at the first sound of fun and I am now leaving because this moment just scarred me for life and I'm using my husband’s absence to go get smashed and forget everything. Good day to you good sir!"

James was glaring at his giggling lover.

"You said it was soundproof!"

"And you believed me. I love you, you stupid man. Now go get me a wash cloth, new pyjama pants and lunch."

Bond rolled his eyes and leaned down kissing the top of his quartermaster’s head. The agent went on to find something to wash the both of them and food. He had his other half back and wouldn't let him out of sight again and that was all that mattered to him.


End file.
